Chapter 14
CALDER
Elena unbuttons her coat and lets out a breath. “Buck’s been patrolling the streets around Mae’s house.”
That tracks. He doesn’t stop working just because he’s off-duty.
“He had door and window alarms installed at Mae’s,” Elena says, “and at my house. Cameras, too.”
“That’s smart.”
“I know it makes sense, and I appreciate it.” She brushes a couple of tiny crumbs from the table with the tips of her fingers. “I’m just wondering what’s going to happen next … and when it’s going to happen.”
I keep quiet because I don’t have anything useful to say. Waiting is part of it. Sometimes the worst part.
Her lips curve up again, and her eyes soften. “Ed Winslow is at Mae’s right now, visiting. They’re both helping T.J. work on a LEGO set.”
“Oh yeah?” I smile at the image. “You have inside access to the town’s favorite romance.”
Elena shrugs and shakes her head. “Not really. He’s been over a few times while I’ve been staying there, but their relationship looks a lot like it does out in public.
He brought over firewood yesterday, and she scolded him for carrying too much, then she scolded him for tracking in snow.
He stood there and took the criticism like it was the reason he came over. ”
I shake my head and snort a laugh. “Sounds about right.”
“I did find out she keeps a stash of homemade peanut butter cookies in her freezer, and she wraps up two for him to take home every time he comes by.”
“Wait, homemade cookies? Mae Whitaker bakes?”
Elena shrugs again, her smile growing. “That was the impression I got. I didn’t actually see her bake them, though.”
“My money’s on them coming from the bakery, but you’ll have to keep an eye on the situation.”
Elena gives me a salute. “I’m on it.” We laugh together for a few pleasant seconds, and then she says, “I’m looking forward to moving back into my house soon, but I’m going to miss living with Mae.
T.J. loves her. She’s always up to build things with him, though she does more supervising than building. ”
I nod, picturing the old woman and the boy sitting together.
“She complains that the LEGO pieces are too small, and she constantly encourages him to change the design rather than following the directions. Every few minutes, she says, ‘You know, if you move that piece over there, it could be better.’”
“Maybe that’s good advice.” I rarely smile so much, and it feels good.
Elena’s smiling too, genuinely, and it hits me in a way I’m not expecting. I look down at my boots like there’s something interesting there, and the room goes quiet again.
“I haven’t seen anything suspicious around Mae’s,” she says eventually, folding her hands on the table. “No vehicles slowing down, no one lingering, and I know that should make me feel better.”
“But it doesn’t.”
“Not really.” She meets my eyes. “I keep thinking about the photo they left out at my house.” Her fingers tighten together. “It wasn’t the act of someone who’s finished.”
I agree with her, but don’t want to increase her alarm. “What can I do?”
She takes a breath and suddenly looks determined. “I came to ask about the school.”
I pull out the chair across from her and sit, and she keeps going.
“Mae’s house feels secure, and I know my house is going to be once everything is installed, but I can’t stop thinking about the school. About how open it is. The parent carpool line, the side entrances, after-school events, people coming in to visit …”
She looks down briefly, then back at me. “I need professional advice. I don’t want to scare the kids or turn the place into a prison, but there must be changes I can make to make it more secure.”
It’s a good question. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, and we need to prepare in every way we can. “We can increase drive-bys,” I say, thinking as I go. “Not just during the day, but evenings and weekends. Buck can work that through the sheriff’s department if needed.
“You need strict front-door control,” I continue. “No side entry, unless it’s staff and stays locked. If someone’s using a side door, you need eyes on it. Make sure the cameras are angled right and working.”
“We do have cameras, but I don’t know how thorough the coverage is.”
“We can walk the building and identify blind spots.”
We talk about exterior lighting, potential hiding spots, staff procedures, parking awareness, and more. She asks good questions, the kind that show she’s already running scenarios in her head.
In the middle of one of her follow-ups about after-hours custodial access, the station’s fire alarm goes off. I knew a test was scheduled for today, but my mind knowing and my body knowing are two separate things.
The shrill sound erupts overhead, too sudden in the enclosed space, and every muscle locks. My shoulders jerk, and I grip the edge of the table before I realize I’m doing it. For one ugly second, the room goes white at the edges, just enough to lose the shape of where I am.
Heat surrounds me, and there’s nowhere to go. A burst of noise over comms. Light strobing against metal. The helpless surge that says move, move, move, when there’s nowhere good to move to.